The Shoeless Artist
by Lunette-Armand
Summary: Erik Destler reluctantly moves on to another life after the events in the Opera Populaire. Using what he knows he accumulates enough money to keep himself comfortable and is fairly happy- but every rich man needs an heir. After sending a letter out to all of the households in the area with beautiful daughters, he gets one reply off a strange girl. Who just so happens to hate shoes.
1. Yours Sincerely

_Dear Monsieur Auzenne,_

_It has come to my attention that your household occupies two daughters who are of age. As a man of wealth with an appreciation for beauty I would be so bold as to ask as for their current marital status. Knowing of your noble sacrifices during the Franco-Prussian War, I took particular interest in your family and your no doubt noble and virtuous daughters. _

_You may have heard about my work in architecture, rebuilding and upgrading some of the finest buildings in France. I can assure you that currently I am in an advanced financial situation and would be more than capable of providing to your daughter's every whim. As a man without a next of kin to leave my legacy to I am sure you understand my urgent need for a wife. _

_I look forward to hearing you reply._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Erik Destler_

* * *

_Dear Monsieur Destler, _

_My family were graced to hear of your interests in wedding one of my daughters, they are after all our greatest treasures and achievements in life; and achievements of which we have many. They are both yet to be wed. However God is not on our side at the moment. You mentioned your admiration for our valiant efforts and contributions during war time- I am sure you are aware that we lost._

_I am afraid Monsieur, that we are in debt now to the Germans and it is mostly my money that has been drained to pay for collateral damage our country caused during such a war. It is a grievous time indeed. Of course, if Monsieur was able to lend 100,000 francs for our 200,000 franc debt then I would have no choice but to give you one of my daughters hands for your immeasurable kindness._

_Yours Sincerely_

_Rene Auzenne_

* * *

News passed quickly in the Auzenne household. All it took was one of the gossiping Chamber-Maids to 'accidentally' pry open the letter with a sharp letter opener and 'accidentally' read it aloud to all the other servants in the household. Then when that news reached the ears of Madame Auzenne, her two daughters and her three sons- Monsieur Auzenne was not the most popular.

The family sat around the dinner table in silence. People picked at their food, sending each other awkward looks as their father and head of the family (Rene Auzenne) tucked in joyously. "Why are you all not eating your food?" The man laughed, patting his eldest and recently widowed son Maurice on the back. The man shot him a look with his intense cold, blue stare. It was then that the man was able to read the room.

"Ah, so you all have heard." He sighed and reclined in his chair somewhat as the attention of the entire family settled on him. Rene was not a man to be desired. The belief that something only gets better with age seems only to apply to wine in his case; for this man was plump, round and fashioned a short scraggy beard that contained a mix of: white, blonde and grey wiry hairs. He was aged significantly. Though his beard hid most of the wrinkles on his face, he still had to squint past his bushy eyebrows and through his narrow spectacles just to gaze upon the inevitably disappointed faces of his family.

Deciding that he'd rather not see their disappointed faces- he removed his spectacles and took a deep breath. "I know that it is not ideal-" Almost as if she was waiting for him to explain himself, his beautiful wife Rosalina chirped up and interrupted him.

"Not ideal!" The woman was usually so delicate, with her thick flowing blonde hair- so white, almost as if it were snow. With skin like porcelain and eyes like honey she was everything a man could wish for. Not to mention her smile, so warm, so motherly- and you would expect it for someone who gave birth to no less than five children. But the ideal wife and domestic Goddess was gone. "You are practically selling off one of our daughters as if she were some sort of-of-of common slave!" The man put a hand to his face and sighed deeply.

"Oh for God sakes Rosalina- do not be so dramatic. The man has money and the means to pay off our debts so we can keep up our current lifestyle." That's when the youngest of all the Auzenne children, Tristan slammed a hand against the table and laughed.

"Keeping up our current lifestyle! You cut off all of my money and insist I stay in this boring house. I am not a woman you know! I have needs!" For the youngest, he was certainly the tallest and most handsome of his brothers. He had the classic Prince Charming look, tall, dark haired, with a chiseled jaw line and deep green eyes that women just swooned for. But he was certainly the brattiest.

"Excuse me." A small voice poked up from the other end of the table, "It isn't a woman's choice that she stays stuck inside the house. It is piggish men like you who shackle them to the domestic lifestyle you deem them only capable of." She sat up from her slumped position in the chair. "Besides, your 'needs' are only ever satisfied by costly women of the night. You deserve to be cut off for your piggish ignorance." Elise gave big talk for a small girl. The family looked at her and sighed- she was always a strange and difficult child. Constantly bringing in this 'feminism' that she read about in books.

"Father," Another one of the Auzenne daughters, Angeline tried to deter them from questioning and pestering her strange sister. "if one of us is to be married, is it me or Elise?" Angeline was a sweet girl, she looked the spitting image of her mother. Except her cheeks were chubbier and rosier and her eyes were big, bold and had that same honey glaze. There was a certain playfulness in her smile that Elise loved so very much. But it was gone now.

"You are the eldest my child, besides," He cast a curious look down the table to Elise- she always sat so far away. "I don't think Elise is ready for marriage yet." Everyone always considered Elise to be quite... strange. She had little customs and habits that one would consider silly or weird in a Lady. Yet her beauty showed no bounds.

There was a sadness in Angeline's expression when her father said that. Almost like she were a wounded animal. It upset Elise to see her sister so... Well upset. Because no one in that room really knew what was going on, they would least expect Elise to know- but she did.

* * *

_Dear Monsieur Auzenne,_

_As a businessman I understand your financial pain. Your loyalty to France even now inspires me and drives myself to become a better man. I would of course love to help you out. But 100,000 francs Monsieur is to little- I will give you the 200,000 francs that you need to make yourself and your family comfortable. This is if you agree to never pay me back this sum._

_Send your most beautiful daughter to me, if we are wed in three days from the time you receive this letter then I will give you all the money you require. Only allow close friends and family of the bride to attend as I only want it to be a small service, the church we are to be using is phenomenally splendid and expensive but only houses a few. Only the best for my bride to be. _

_Yours Sincerely _

Erik Destler

* * *

The Auzenne household was all a buzz for the next day or two. The servants were excited to be fitting Angeline for her dress and preparing food for after the ceremony- for the guests only of course. The schedule was busy and with Rene Auzenne in Paris organising business ventures with his new-found wealth- it left all the preparations up to Rosalina and Elise. Secretly, their mother Rosalina was proud of her daughter for finally getting married. But Angeline was not.

Elise had watched from her window each time Angeline had met up with the young Count in the Estate but only a miles reach from their home. In their rose garden, they would meet. Angeline's face lit up how Mother's face used to light up when she saw their father. And his in turn would do the same. It was young love- as fresh and pure as it could be.

It was such a romantic setting. Far off from the house, secluded and lit only by the lantern he would bring with him. Bushes surrounded them- closing them off from the world and making them isolated. Not that they needed it, simply being around each other the rest of the world seemed to collapse away. Roses coiled around the bushes near the grass where they sat. Vibrant reds and yellows that stood out from the lush greenery that below and around them.

Although Elise could never hear them talking as they lay down in the grass and stared up at the stars- she could imagine them whispering sweet nothings to each other and teasing at the prospect of marriage. Once, she had even see the young, dashing Count with the shockingly red hair get down on one knee. There was no ring. Yet still Elise could see that look in her sisters honey eyes. She loved him.

That night, as Angeline met up with the young Count in the garden there was no light in her eyes. In fact, that light disappeared down her cheek with the tear that fell from it. The Count cried too. He got down on his knee again, this time not for a proposal- this time he was begging and shouting. When they eventually calmed, they sat and talked for what must have been hours on end. Perhaps flirting with the idea of escape. It had to end eventually though- so with one chaste kiss the Count went his way, and Angeline came back.

Elise sat on her bed. She knew that she wasn't much to this family, if anything she was quite the hinderance. Always getting ill and costing them money, humiliating them at public events. If there was anything she could ever do to this family that was useful- it was this. So she picked up her pen and began writing.

* * *

_Dear Erik Destler, _

_I know this is quite out of the ordinary, but my Father refuses us contact with you until the day of the wedding- which I think is frankly idiotic. But I digress. My family had arranged for you to marry my sister, Angeline. However she would make you a horrible bride. She's small and stumpy, bulges in all the wrong places and has a rather disgustingly pungent odor about her. Not to even mention the oily skin and that little growth she has on the end of her nose that looks like it could be growing another person entirely. So unless you are into a woman who looks more a monster than woman, you will have to marry me. _

_Of course, for this exchange I do have some requests. Firstly, I would like an unlimited supply of paints in an array of textures. Do not deny me of this, I know full well you have the money and you are an architect in needs of varying colour and textured paints. Secondly, whilst as your wife I would be willing to share a bed with you I would require my own working space. If you are indeed as rich as you claim to be I expect my own private study of sorts dedicated to painting and music. The last is an easy request and that is permission as an independent woman to wear whatever I please. These demands are non-negotiable and should you decline then I will refuse to marry you. That would leave you with the option of marrying my terrifying sister._

_ The choice is yours. _

_Elise Auzenne_

* * *

Of course her family were mad when they found out the extent to which she stretched the truth and demanded for things. Her father of most was angry and returned immediately to their home. In the end she was yelled at and reprimanded and told to write a letter of apology. But being able to watch Angeline and the Count in each others arms again, with that glint in their eyes was worth any punishment.

* * *

_Dear Elise Auzenne, _

_Your sister sounds terrible, however I am sure you are over exaggerating the extent of her foulness. However I admire your ambition and drive to obtain what you need- whilst your terms were put across rather rashly I am prepared to put it down to excitement or a spur of the moment action. I agree to your conditions and look forward to seeing you at the altar in but a days time. _

_Yours Sincerely_

_Erik_


	2. Masks, Feet and Empty Pews

Erik was angry. As he tapped his foot impatiently at the altar, he groaned. He specifically said in the letter that they were only to bring close friends and family. But now over a hundred eyes stared at the man's back as he tried to keep his mask out of their view.

The church was all he had said it was and more. It truly was splendid. Though it was old, Erik had had it renovated just for the occasion. Every doorway was arched and fitted with new and expensive marble. A freshly painted fresco of a battle between heaven and hell beat down over their heads. Erik had hired some of the most skillful painters in the whole of France to come in and paint the beautiful yet tragic piece.

Stained glass windows cast coloured light over the mahogany pews, people marvelled at them and it made Erik smile. It seemed that the Auzenne appreciated beauty as much as he did. In fact Erik handpicked the most brilliantly dazzling and perfect flowers for the bouquets that lined the church. Never before had he taken so much attention and time to appreciate the finesse each petal presented.

The thick red, velvet carpet that lead up to the altar itself probably cost more than what her dress would, that caused an unnerving feeling in the pit of his stomach. What if she wasn't beautiful like he had wished? He knew he was a hypocrite for thinking such materialistic and shallow thoughts on the day of his wedding... But still was this all one tragic mistake.

When he finally plucked up the courage to turn around and face his audience, he felt strangely nauseated yet a hint of excitement. The pews on the right were filled with people extravagantly dressed and pushing against each other to fit onto the pews. It looked like a tight fit. That was obviously the Auzenne half of the church.

His half, where people he knew took up two rows. The first had one person, his best man and only one true friend Nadir Khan. The second was his ten house helpers: One cook, two maids, two serving boys, one butler, two stable boys, a carriage driver and an accountant. The pews behind them were completely empty, barren, desolate. It represented the man just fine.

That's when the whispering and the gawking and the judging started. People looked at the crisp white of his mask- it was quite glossy and reflected the candle light which he always thought was poetic. People just couldn't get past it. Had they never heard of the phrase curiosity killed the cat? Not that he would ever kill a cat, God no they were regal and proud creatures. These people were just nosey.

Though he had heard the whispering all his life, it still bugged him. He couldn't help but grit his teeth and grind them together as they all made their little theories about what lay under it. Some are even worse than the truth, which is something he never deemed possible.

The whispering never stopped though, he clenched his fist- ready to snap when the doors opened. A light so bright that it was almost blinding hit him and he had to close his eyes for a second to adjust. And he was delighted when they did for he hadn't seen a sight so beautiful in... years.

A woman, no his woman, in a long white dress the shade of the heavens but so much more. At the bottom it flowed and rippled like a stream of water was following her body. It tucked in at her waist, she has such a skinny form and ideal waist. Erik could tell it was without the aid of a corset. Though she was not preciously endowed, her figure was still womanly and entirely desirable.

The jewels she wore around her neck drew attention to her collar bones and neck in such a seductive way that Erik had to blink and look away to contain himself. And the hair, oh that hair. It was a precious gold and milky blonde- looking as is it had been woven from gold. All of it was drawn in by the deep, bold, green eyes. Those were eyes he'd want to get lost in and never return.

Oh God, that lipstick! That bright red lipstick had to be sinful! Surely she wasn't allowed to wear that in church, it looked like she had been kissed by the devil himself. Even if it wasn't sinful it had to be illegal. Erik usually hated make-up on women, believing is distracted from the pure beauty underneath. There was just something about that luscious red shade that made his heart flutter... and something else that he really shouldn't be thinking about in a church.

But people in the pews seemed to either be laughing or shaking their heads. Was Erik so blinded by her beauty that he had missed something? Once again, he looked her up and down- trying to avoid the curves and that devilish lipstick. All he observed was the way she looked up at the Fresco on the ceiling- like no one else was in the room and she was lost in her own little dream world.

Before he knew it, she had arrived at the altar. Up close he could see just how pale her skin was, it could have been part of the dress for how white it was. He also noted how much smaller than him she was, he'd have to squat down just to kiss her. Oh God, he had to kiss those devilish red lips.

The dress also left little to the imagination when viewed at the top. Because she was so small he could see nearly directly down through the top of it. He felt a certain tightness in his chest and again, other places that shouldn't really be thought about in church so took a step back. It was when he took a step back that he saw something.

At the bottom of her dress, ten little toes were all sticking out. For a while, he stared down at them baffled. Had she seriously come to her own wedding... shoeless? This woman was already messing with his head and he'd only been in the same room with her for two minutes.

She must have snapped out of her daydream because when she got there, she shook her head and blinked really hard. Almost immediately her attention was drawn to the mask. The gloss on it reflected the coloured light from the windows quite beautifully, almost poetically she thought.

Though she was itching to find out what secrets lay under it, she had to admire the rest of his features. Despite the fact she had to angle her head upwards nearly 180 degrees just to look up at him, she could see that he was quite the handsome fellow. His chin line was broad and chiseled, clean-shaven too. However, there was something strange about his black, slicked back hair; it was thick, almost too thick to be real... When he backed away a step, she got her first glance at those big amber eyes.

Though her mother, brothers and sister had golden eyes- it was nary a thing compared the yellow glow of this masked mans eyes. They really were like amber, thick, enticing and seemed to glow as if they were their own light source. Elise would love to paint them, but feared she would never find a shade that would do them justice. When she finally managed to pull her eyes away she looked at the rest of him.

For first impressions she was rather impressed. This man's upper body was remarkably big, bold and strong-looking. Yet as her eyes drifted down she had to say she was disappointed by how skinny his legs were. And his feet were abnormally large. How did he even balance?

Most of the service went normally, how any wedding would go. There were a few minor hiccups when they weren't paying attention, Erik's wandering eyes getting the better of him and Elise seemingly in her own little dream world. It was a quiet, uneventful service. Apart from the end, which Erik was most looking forward to- his first taste of those devilishly sweet lips.

It was awkward, no one could deny. He was so tall and she was so small that Erik had to squat and she had to stand up on her tip toes. Not to mention they kept going in the same direction and bumping noses. It took a good four tries before they had finally managed to place a small, chaste kiss on each other's lips. By the end Erik had a full blush on.

As they left, the Auzenne part of the church threw confetti. The Destler side simply followed him out, not saying a word and keeping their heads down. The Auzenne family thought nothing of it, after all they were servants and it's what they did. But there was so much more to it than that.

Elise got into the carriage first, holding up her dress skirts inappropriately high as she did so. Someone was going to have to tell her from restraining from such actions in the presence of men. It sure as hell wasn't going to be him though.

Before her family even got the chance to say goodbye, he whisked her away in their private carriage. It had a lavish, plush red interior and thick curtains to block out light in case of longer journey's. Theirs was only a few minutes though. Erik noticed how she ad her face almost pressed up against the window and sighed.

"Elise... I know I may not be your ideal man, but I promise you I will give you everything I have, okay?" There was no response from his wife and he frowned, "Elise are you ignoring me? Elise? Elise. Elise! ELISE!" The man grew impatient. She had the ignorance just to ignore her husband? "ELISE!" This time, he tugged her arm.

It nearly made him jump out of his skin when she dropped like a sack of potatoes onto his lap. Her eyes were shut and mouth open slightly. Had she just fallen asleep like that? So quickly? Lowering his head carefully, he listened for signs of breathing. At first he couldn't hear any and his heart thundered. Then a small, shaky breath drew from her and he sighed.

Again, he looked down at her. This woman who was his wife. This woman who was HIS. Yes, she was his and his alone, no one elses- he would make sure of that. No one would get to her, hurt her or touch her. Because he'd finally captured an angel and he wasn't letting this one go.

* * *

**Hey, thanks for reading this. If you want to go ahead and drop a review that would be cool, it's all about learning and developing and stuff, right? Cool.**


	3. Empty Beds

Erik carried his wife upstairs, admiring the decor of the place as he did. The lobby was lavishly decorated with dark woods and plush red furniture. There was something he enjoyed about sumptuous plush red of sofas, it was almost enticing. Like they were beckoning for you to lounge on them- not that Erik had much time for lounging.

The entire house was based on a symmetry concept. Whatever was on the right, was on the left and precise to the centimetre. Erik's shoes clanked off the dark polished floors as he made his way up the curved staircase and to the master bedroom on the farthest, left side of the house.

A long dark green carpet stretched the length of the corridor, adding little warmth to the cold of the wood. Each door was clearly labelled for his wife: bathroom, music room, study, library and finally 'Master Bedroom'.

This room was his pride and joy. A four Poster bed stood at the far side of the room and had thick black sheets you could get tangled in for days. It was, of course, made of the finest silks and sturdiest wood.

The room had it's own fireplace, which still had embers crackling away inside it. A fur rug laid a little way away from it. He would sit there sometimes, watching the flames dance and spit- making up stories in his head to escape from the harsh reality of life. As dark as that seemed, it was sort of the norm for Erik.

He laid his new wife down on the bed. The way her hair flopped down and coiled around her head like a halo made him groan with longing in the back of his throat. They had yet to consummate their marriage, but Erik supposed that could wait. His angel was tired and he wasn't going to defile her as he slept.

The idea of him sharing a bed with his with his wife, the idea of having wife made him both thrilled and scared. Though he had been with women before, they were women of the night who insisted he keep the light of. There was no real passion.

But Erik had sat down with his Persian friend Nadir and discussed this; he'd read the Karma sutra and how to possibly satisfy his wife. It seemed the ideas were endless. They agreed that he would only do so when she was ready, if she never wanted to- then so be it. He had a woman warming his bed in the mean time and it made him tingle with excitement and anticipation.

Yet when he woke up the next morning, she wasn't there. Immediately, he sat up- feeling the empty bed beside him. It was stone cold. As he looked around the room he saw that the wardrobe containing her clothes was opened as was his, except some of his clothes were tossed onto the floor.

Had she left him? So soon after being married had she ran off in the middle of the night? No, she wouldn't have the audacity to pull such a stunt! Erik wrapped a cloak around himself and adjusted his masks before running out into the corridor.

A sweet faced, albeit chubby Maid Nathalie was carrying a stack of towels into the bathroom. She jumped when she saw him and Erik waved at her. "Nathalie! Tell the boys to prepare the horses!" He walked swiftly toward her and the poor girl looked terrified.

That's when he heard music, drifting through the hallway. It was coming from the left side of the house. He had strict rules on the servants of the household playing music- especially so early in the morning. Pushing past Nathalie, he followed it.

The sound was coming from HIS music room, it was his and no one else's. Who would have the gall to step into his domain? Sure enough, as he pushed open the door- she was there. That devilish wife of his.

"Elise! What are you doing in MY music room?" He asked, flaring his nostrils and gritting his teeth. Not only had she invaded his working space, she was stood on top of his finest and newly polished piano! The keys were pure ivory imported from Africa- but this woman seemed not to care.

Her bare feet stood on top of and ruined his latest musical compositions. Red hot fury flooded him and he was almost ready to snap. Then he noticed what she was wearing.

Her legs were covered by nothing more than a pair of thermal long johns, her top by a dress shirt with the buttons mismatched. And they were his. His eyes widened as he saw the women splattered with an assortment of paints that were staining his clothes.

Erik was angry, he was furious. But there was something about her messy hair and attire that left Erik incapable of interrupting. The ways her face twisted and how her eyebrows jumped up and down as she examined her painting reeled him in. And the idea of her warm form pressing up against his clothes stirred animalistic feeling inside him that made him want to go over there and pin her to that wall to do unimaginable things to her. And he hadn't even spoke to her properly yet.

When she finally snapped out her little painting trance and saw him in the doorway she jumped. "Monsieur Destler... Good morning." Erik, too came crashing back down to earth when she spoke. Now he realised that this woman was just wearing nary a thing, standing on top of his most prized possession and defacing his walls. That music was awfully loud too.

"You are not supposed to be in here." He stated with a little bitterness in his tone as he crossed the room to turn off the Gramophone. It was then that he got his first glimpse at her painting skills.

It was a girl, with deliciously tanned skin- typical of someone French who actually went outside once in a while. From her chubby facial features and big, round, brown eyes he could see she was quite young. Age was always hard to convey in pictures- put in this he could easily see she was around 9-10.

The girl wore messy, denim overalls that seemed to have been cut short at her muddy knees. Her shoes had a thin coat of mud that splattered up her shins. She wore a scruffy dress shirt, the blue collar faded slightly. It seemed like she had been out playing- judging from the scuffs and mud on her skin, not to mention the big grin on her face that seemed almost idiotic.

Though her hair was thick and black, it was short. Cut just halfway up the neck, and messily judging on the fact some parts were slightly uneven. But it framed her face and added to the innocence and the playful air she had about her.

In her hands was a poppy, clutched tightly in such delicate hands that Erik feared if he stared at them too long they may break. It was just a painting of a messy child, but the detail was so precise Erik thought for a second she had captured an actual moment in time. It was breathtaking.

"Well Monsieur Destler promised me a music and painting room, I just decided to move into this one. Is that a problem?" Erik managed to drag his eyes away from her picture just a second and gaze at the equally messy wife. Wow he had wife.

The woman blinked when he gave no response and waved her hands in front of his eyes to make sure he hadn't fell asleep standing up or something, she'd heard of a few people who did that. But no, he hadn't. "Why yes it is Elise. I had organised you the room just down the hall next to our room. This is my room. You are NOT allowed in here."

He gripped her arm almost possessively and she looked at it with a frown. "Monsieur, let go." Though her tone sounded a little shaken, he continued to drag her from his workspace and she struggled against his vice-like grip with a vengeance.

"Monsieur! Please! You're hurting me!" Tears pricked her eyes as she strained against the pain he caused by yanking her left arm. Erik turned and saw her face contorted in pain so stopped. The woman immediately dropped to the floor clutching her shoulder.

Erik looked down at her with a confused expression. He hadn't even been pulling very hard, it was barely a tug and yet this woman sat on the floor before him as if he had broken it. "Elise?"

His eyes burned down at her as he stared and although the pain had subdued long ago, Elise remained there. When he stared it was as if he was burning into her soul. She finally found the courage to look up him.

There was a dark air around him, an air of mystery and danger. It made her heart leap and skin tingle- like nothing she had ever felt before. He was like the villain she read about in the inappropriate story books her mother once banned from reading. The tall, dark stranger whose very appearance promised turmoil, destruction and upset. But that same stranger drew her in, a weird attraction pulled her to the bad characters in those stories.

In a way she believed the attraction was based on an understanding that they had certain flaws. And that dark air was intoxicating. When the man showed her a little kindness by holding out his hand she looked at it with heavy lids as she took it.

His hand was strong and she liked that. He pulled her up in one, swift movement- but it seemed he didn't know his own strength because she lost her footing and her head hit his chest.

Erik looked down at the woman whose head he had resting against his chest and gave a slight smirk. When she finally regained her balance and pulled away with a gasp he let a chortle pass his half deformed lips. Elise, all blushed up fixed the buttons on the dress shirt with a huff.

"You may keep this room Elise. Know that this is the last time I am to be lenient towards you." The blonde simply nodded and bit her lip as if she was a child being scolded. That small gesture made Erik's heart jump a little- but he managed to keep an author active and straight face.

"I must also ask you wear more clothes in the house, it's not appropriate to be-" The masked fiend began, only to be interrupted by a scoff, "Excuse me?" he said between grit teeth.

"You promised in the letter freedom to wear whatever I like!" She placed her hands on her hips and stood on her tip toes in an attempt to make herself look taller and more of a challenge. Erik found it obnoxious.

"And dressed like that you look like a common whore crawling out of a mans house in the morning!" His voice was gruff, a mixture of tired and angry. Why was she arguing with him?

"Oh and you would know what that looked like, wouldn't you?" The woman looked proud at her witty reply from the big grin she had on her face. Erik's mouth twitched. He didn't know whether he should laugh, growl or kiss her.

As she puffed her chest out Erik resisted the urge to slam his lips against hers and instead growled. "You are intolerable and so very annoying." His teeth were grinding together so hard Elise could see his cheek muscles expanding.

"Takes one to know one!" She said in reply. Erik furrowed his brows and opened his mouth in a confused 'O' shape like a fish.

"That- that doesn't even make sense!" Now yelling, Erik shook his head and looked up at the ceiling wondering how God could possibly have switched his beautiful Bride for such a strange woman overnight.

"Stop yelling at me!" She all but screamed back at him, paintbrush still in hand- she splattered paint over his once, crisp, white mask. Erik put his fingers to his mask and felt it was wet and sticky. When he pulled his hand into view he saw blue paint on his fingers.

"For the love of God!" He growled and looked at her as she resisted the giggles that shook her chest. "You think this is funny?!" His eyes were flashing red, as was his face,but she nodded and giggled.

Like a bratty child he took the paint brush from her and snapped it. "There, is that funny?" He tossed it on the floor and looked up at her for a reaction.

"Wow. I see." The woman looked down at it for a second, before back up at him. "I get the feeling that you aren't good with people Monsieur Destler." Erik breathed heavily, nostrils flaring at her child like tone.

"Don't speak to me like that. I am your husband." He grabbed her arms and pulled her in close. Elise blushed at the closeness of their faces, his hot breath hit off her forehead. "You will not insult me with your tone, nor your words."

He bent down to whisper in her ear, hot breath brushed her neck and Elise gasped. "You are mine whether you want to be or no and if you do something like that again, you will regret it." The grip on her arms loosened and she watched as he stormed off down the corridor.

When he had disappeared from earshot she released a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding in and slid down the door. Butterflies filled her stomach and she bit her lip. In that moment she didn't know if she should curl up and cry or squeal. The squeal was an action she didn't quite understand- but she went with that option.

When Erik finally made it to his study, he took big deep breaths. That woman could both irritate and arouse him. He closed his eyes and tried to cool down from their little encounter.

His Persian friend Nadir looked over to him through his narrow glasses and smiled. "Trouble in Paradise?" Nudging a glass of scotch over to his friend he laughed.

Erik downed it one and grunted a reply. "Yes."

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**Please feel free to leave a review, you may not realise how much they actually helped to spur on a writer. Thank you for just reading though.**


	4. Habits

T**hank you all for the such kind reviews, I'm always excited to receive feedback from other writers such as yourselves and it does inspire me to continue. Enough of this anyway, back to the reason you're here.**

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Erik woke yet again to an empty bed with a tired groan. He felt the sheets were still warm, there was still a delve in her pillow from where she kept her head. He'd been living with the mysterious and childlike temptress for nearly a week now, waking up each day to an empty bed and awfully loud music drifting through the house.

Not that either of them seemed to get much sleep. Erik would always be tired after a long days business,haggling and selling his architectural designs. He'd climb into an empty bed after a lonely dinner and be awakened in the early hours of the morning by Elise creeping into bed. Then that cracking noise she made by rolling her left shoulder around would keep him awake the rest of the night.

It was still like living alone. He hardly saw his wife. Erik had a lot of business and was in high demand, but he'd always make time to sit down and have dinner. Alas, she always refused his invitations to that as well. In fact sometimes he would have to tell the maids to take the food up and remind her to eat.

Elise seemed to have a lot of strange habits, especially for a girl who came from such an ordinary family. When Erik asked his good friend and associate Nadir to look their family up it mentioned she had a lot of brothers- three to be exact.

One of which was a widowed alcoholic, the other was a young playboy and the middle was engaged to a Parisian woman. Due to be married soon in fact. What he was more interested in, however, was the two daughters of Rene Auzenne. Angeline was a cute girl from her portraits, as was Elise.

Nadir could find a lot of information out about Angeline, her childhood friends, previous suitors, age, height, weight and general personality. Yet there was a large question mark over the secluded sister Elise. Erik was apprehensive of her letter at first, but her portrait was pretty. It did her no justice in real life.

This, he supposed, is why the family kept her so secret and seemed reluctant to give her away. These... Habits. Not wearing shoes, cracking her shoulder, being secluded to paint and play music and the wearing of men's clothes in an almost promiscuous fashion. He couldn't decide if the last one was quite a problem though.

Nadir had to admit from what he observed about her behavior that she was, indeed, strange. As Erik dressed and re-arranged his wig, he decided that he would confront his wife- as was his right- about these tendencies.

Elise was busy, standing on a large stack of furniture as she reached up to paint on the ceiling. There was no way she could have carried two dining chairs, one study table and half a library of books on her own up to the room on her own. Erik merely shook his head at the balancing act she had going on and cleared his throat.

She turned around to him and gave a slight smile, as if he was some acquaintance and continued to paint. Erik made a 'tsk' sound and turned down the gramophone once again. Elise nearly fell off her leaning tower of furniture as she turned to look at him. Erik dashed to her side- heart racing. She managed to regain her balance though, making her way down safely.

"What were you doing up there?!" Erik all but snapped, "You could have killed yourself." The paint splattered blonde simply shrugged at him as she placed her easel onto the piano.

"But I didn't. And if I did you looked like you were ready to catch me." She turned her eye contact back to him, green eyes staring into his deep amber ones. "Besides I've fell from higher." The masked man gave an irritated sigh as he rubbed his good eye.

"Elise we need to talk about this." Erik stated. His wife nodded and sat up on the edge of his piano. That's when some compositions that weren't his caught his eye. They were sprawled all over in large, messy writing and he was curious to see what this amaeture could do. Elise once again waved in his line of sight and Erik snapped his attention back to her.

"This can't continue." The woman cocked her head and furrowed her brows, like a con-fuddled dog. "Refusing my dinner proposals, staying up all hours of the night and staying secluded in here." Elise crossed her legs, wearing a pair of his dress pants and his dress shirt. It was buttoned dangerously low.

"Are you a secluded man, Monsieur Destler?" Her voice piqued with curiosity as she placed her elbow on her knee, head on her hand as she leaned forward and stared at him. The man simply stood, grinding his teeth together.

"Obviously not, otherwise I would not have wanted a wife." He was becoming quite annoyed at this woman's witty remarks. In his experience women were much more co-operative. And they certainly weren't this smart.

"But did you get a wife because you wanted one? Or because it is what people expect of a young... Ish, rich bachelor." Her eyes narrowed, "Or is it a much darker, personal objective? Perhaps to satisfy your carnal desires for intimacy, or replacing a lost intimacy?"

Erik stood, feeling as though someone had plunged a knife into his heart. It was like a massive slap to the face. He realised that she was right, the first was of course wrong. The second was what he had fooled himself into believing. The last two were too accurate, scarily accurate.

"Who are you to ask such questions? Remember you chose to marry me. Yet you refuse to consummate the marriage." Erik tried to keep his cool. Nadir had try to teach him to be patient with women, but normal women- Elise was no ordinary woman.

"It's a marriage of legal standing, for money. You never stated that you required intimacy out of this arrangement- I am keeping up my end of the bargain by staying here." Erik was furious. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles were practically white.

"I stated I wanted an heir, that is a form of intimacy." Elise rose an eyebrow and he almost whined, "What kind of game are you playing? You walk around dressed like that, looking like that and being my wife but expect me to refrain from wanting to be intimate?!"

Elise all but laughed, a playful smile crossing her lips. "So you did marry to satisfy a carnal desire?" Erik growled and stepped closer to her. He put hands either side of her on the piano to trap her, his eyes filled with lust.

"Do. Not. . .That." His eyes were level with hers and were both threatening and exciting at the same time. They even seemed to flash as he spoke. Elise bit her lip again and Erik had refrain from running a finger over those plump cherry lips.

"A wife is supposed to be truthful to her husband, and do you know what the truth is?" Elise said, regaining a little of her confidence. His breath was hot and laboured against her cheek as she edged closer to him; Legs brushing either side of his waist.

"You only want me for my body and not who I am, because you think I am an outlet for your sexual frustration. You miss someone." Her tone sounded a little saddened as she continued, "And it hurts, it hurts so much that you need to find someone to blame it on."

She placed her hands on his chest, whispering into his ear like he had done to her yesterday. "And it isn't me." With one, harsh shove- she pushed him away. The man lost his footing and fell to the ground. Elise used it as a chance to run, perhaps to the kitchen to pick up some food.

Erik sat on the floor for a while. He loosened his shirt collar and caught his breath, listening to her bare footsteps running away. She seemed to understand he had a pain deep within him. Actually, she understood it better than he did.

Paint dripped down from the ceiling and he looked up to see a woman in a boat. The black haired woman had a parasol in hand and a hat tipped over her head. A faceless man rowed the boat opposite her.

Erik knew this couldn't continue, he had to stop it. When he finally managed to drag himself away from the painting he walked out and closed the door behind him. Something shiny caught his eye and he turned. The key was still in the door.

Erik looked around to make sure none of the servants were going to watch this treachery. There was no one. With one turn, the locked clicked and he retracted the key, whistling as he causally wandered to the open window.

He tossed the key out of the window and slammed it shut with a smirk. Now she will have to spend time with me- he thought. Walking, he had a spring in his step as he went about the days business.

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**I promise from here on it will be more from them than just talking, I swear. But yeah, Erik's a sneaky one. Reviews really help spur me on, so drop one of you like. Thanks.**


	5. The Wrath of Erik Destler

**Thank you for the kind reviews, I want to let you know that I read each one of them and they really do make my day. So thank you.**

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Erik awoke that morning, feeling a slight weight on the side of his bed, pulling him down a little as he roused. Warmth radiated from that sinking side. As he turned, he saw an angry-looking woman.

"You closed my art room." Elise said, with a pout and a puff. She sat cross-legged on the bed- arms folded over her chest and still in her thin, lilac nightgown.

Erik gave her a sarcastic, albeit tired smile. "Good morning to you too Madame." Even though he had done something unspeakably selfish, he couldn't help but marvel in this small victory. Waking up to see his wife's face. Even if it was an angry one.

"We had an agreement." Elise stated, so sure of herself. Her 'husband' chuckled a reply. "Your agreement was to be my wife and spending most of your time in there rather than with me begs the question," Erik sat up until he was level with her, looking her dead in the eye. "Do we _really_ have an agreement?"

His eyebrows were raised in a quizzical manner; the angry woman looked at him, narrowing her eyes and tilting her head. It seemed she was looking at his mask and his hair. With a slight gasp, Erik turned away and re-adjusted them. No doubt they were a little messed up.

When he turned back she was still staring. His lip curled angrily and he snapped,"What are you staring at?!" Elise took a sharp intake of breath and looked away.

"Nothing, oh nothing." She said in a nonchalant tone, shrugging her shoulders and looking at her nails as if they were far more interesting than their current conversation.

After a moment of awkward silence passed, Erik sprung out of bed- the sudden loss of weight on one side caused Elise to fall on her back and give a slight yelp as she hit the sheets. They were so soft and thick she could have drown in them.

When she finally emerged from the masses of silk and satin, a dress was thrown onto the bed. It was a pretty dress, a matt pink with a high neck. It had a drawn in at the waist and the material was ruffled at the hips to give the illusion that they were bigger. The bustle on the back was fairly large to accentuate her already perky behind.

The sleeves were puffy and the neck held a brooch with a sapphire gem, surrounded by diamonds. It was quite the centrepiece. Elise frowned at it. "I'm not wearing it. They're large, heavy, hot and uncomfortable."

Rubbing his temples, Erik groaned. "Elise, dear, I don't have time for one of our little spats this morning. I have business to attend to and I need you there with me to introduce you to some of my key partners and clientele."

She looked down at the dress with a scoff. "But you've never worn a dress- you don't get it!" Her tone lowered slightly and she looked around to see if anyone was listening in; not like there was anyone else there in the first place. "And I have, you know..." Pulling a pillow up to her stomach she bit her lip. "'Woman problems.'"

Erik didn't know if he should blush or gag, so stood and blinked at her for a while in stunned silence. He was aware of what a woman's body went through, but none of them had ever admitted it in the presence of a man.

"And dresses make it go everywhere!" The woman said in a rather exaggerated tone. The masked man covered his ears and screwed up his face. The mere vulgarity of it churned his stomach. It was far to early in the morning to be thinking about such disgusting, yet somehow natural bodily processes.

"Elise, no I don't need to hear this right now!" Walking as fast as he could to the door, he picked up the newspaper the maids had so kindly left him and dashed out. Still in his night-wear he ran down the stairs and into his office. Why did she have to be so difficult and vulgar?

* * *

Erik could hear her from up the stairs. Loud, sloppy footsteps booming down the stairs like a spoilt child. He hid a small smile from behind his cup of tea as he blew across it's surface; as if that would make a difference to how hot it was. There were mumbled mutterings coming from behind the door, he recognised them as the maids.

For a while everything went suddenly quiet- too quiet. Then BANG! The door to Erik's office flew open, revealing Elise stuffed into the dress he picked out earlier. Her shoulders and chest were heaving and there was a low, gutteral growl that came from her. Someone that small and cute shouldn't be able to do that- Erik thought as he had to brush the spilt tea off his trousers.

Nadir had suffered from the sudden terror also, spilling his own tea over the papers and shrieking like an old woman. Elise looked at Erik like she was ready to pounce, jump on him and rip out his throat. Instead she threw the shoes he had so lovingly picked out at him with a brutal force.

"We had an agreement!" She yelled, slumping into the chair on the opposite side of the room. The Persian man simply rolled his eyes and tutted, earning a cold, harsh glare from Erik's new wife. Clearing his throat, Erik picked up the shoes- setting them out neatly on the table.

"Do you have any idea how uncomfortable corsets are, Monsieur Kahn?!" Elise addressed the Persian man, counting francs from his desk. He looked up, clueless. Erik had made him aware of their previous conversation, so the man licked his lips and shuffled awkwardly in his seat.

"No, Madame Destler- can't say I do." He replied, looking at her over the top of his glasses. His voice was low and smooth, an accent clung to his words but was quite distant. He had thick, dark hair- slicked back like Erik's but with a little less effort meaning it came off in bumps off his head. He sported a beard, around the top of his lip that connected to his chin, yet his jaw-line was shaven. Elise assumed that it was just the style in Persia, although she had to admit she liked it.

"It's like being crushed! You can't breathe, you can't move or bend over! They are built for the purpose of shaping a woman, but only aid in crippling her and I demand release from it immediately!" Elise crossed her arms and legs to enforce her statement. Erik thought she was being immature, but Nadir had to agree with her. He never understood the custom of making women crush their own organs when out in public. Women in his home country enjoyed the natural shape of their bodies.

"Very well," Said Erik, standing and taking the shoes into his hands. "you can be without the corsets. However..." His strides were big and he crossed the room in a matter of seconds. "You_ will_ have to wear the shoes." The gaze he cast over her made her shiver. There was a darkness in his eyes, a longing, demanding darkness.

Erik was different to other men, Elise analysed. Whilst other men seemed to undress women with their eyes, Erik seemed to simply skim over her appearance. The only time it ever went beyond that, was when he seemed to be staring into her soul. As if he were reaching out, like an animal in pain. There was something scary and dangerous about it.

Elise huffed and she puffed but there really was no getting out of this one. So, she rolled her shoulder and made in crack before slipping her feet in those hellish heels. Nadir shook his head; Erik always got his way in the end.

* * *

The masked fiend brought his dashing wife into the 'conference room'. The name seemed so official and important sounding- when in reality it was a horribly boring room. It was nothing but a large table, surrounded by chairs. The wallpaper and carpets were dark and uneventful, even the windows were shrouded by thick red curtains. No paintings on the walls, no flowers of the table- just scotch and the stench of cigar smoke. Even the lighting was dull and bland.

Elise sat pretty at the end of her table like her mother did when Father had guests over. One by one they would take her hand and give it a chaste kiss, undressing her with their eyes. Erik noticed this unseemly behavior and would always clear his throat to drag their attention back. And that would be her little piece over.

She would sit there whilst they did business, made their vulgar jokes. Of course Erik never participated, mainly made a dry and unenthusiastic attempt at laughter and swiftly change the subject. The boredom was creeping into insanity!

There were times when Elise would pay heed to what they were talking about. One man wanted a building with only three windows per floor to save money on the glass. Elise tried to chip in to explain that windows are there to draw in the outdoors to the indoors. All this earned were several snorts of derision and claims that: 'Men made the indoors to keep out the outdoors. If you want some nature in your house you should do some flower arranging.'.

But, playing the 'darling wife' role, Elise knew she was not to protest. Minutes stretched into hours and it felt like those hours stretched into days. She was so glad when she could finally leap out of the room and to an open window to breathe in the fresh air- get that stuffy smoke out of her lungs.

"I'm sorry about them," A strong voice came from behind her, she turned to see a tall man. His hair was a light brown and it had been scruffily arranged. He mustn't have said anything particularly annoying, because Elise had hardly noticed him.

"Sometimes they don't understand that the art of architecture can require a feminine touch." The man took her small hand in his much larger one and Elise blushed. He had a beautifully shaped face- broad yet delicate. It was the princely type that she would love to draw sometime. His eyes were a brown so deep they could have been a dirty crimson!

"Forgive me Monsieur, but you have a truly wonderful profile. I would love to paint it someti-" Before she could even finish her sentence, Erik stepped in. Though his face was completely void of emotion, there was a glint of anger in his eye.

"Ah, Monsieur Wray. What a..." Erik gave him a look up and down, like he was a lesser human being. "Pleasure." Monsieur Wray extended his hand for Erik to shake, but the masked man remained still. "I see you have met my wife, Madame Elise Destler."

She gave him a frown, he was being unnecessarily condescending. Monsieur Wray retracted his hand and paled a little under Erik's stern gaze. "Oh, were you not aware that I was wed?" His tone was almost mocking as he stepped closer to him.

"No, I was not. Do forgive me Monsieur." Wary's tone sounded more feeble than it once had been. Almost a minute ago he looked the brave young man, handsome and confident. Now he was a sweating, shaking mess of a boy.

"You don't have to apologise, I can't quite believe it myself." Elise interjected, receiving a harsh stare from Erik as he snapped his head to look at her. Monsieur Wray gained back some of his confidence, taking Erik's hand and giving it a strong shake.

"It has been a privilege to meet you Monsieur. I must be going now." He nodded towards Elise and gave her a sweet- almost thankful smile. "Thank you Madame Destler." But Erik paid him no attention, still glaring down at Elise as she wave the man goodbye. He kept a slow pace until he reached the corner, then all but sprinted out of the house.

"Never..." His teeth were grinding together so hard that Elise could hear them squeaking. "Never make me look a fool like that again." His nostrils were flaring in anger and Elise couldn't help but release a giggle.

"Erik, dear. You were doing that all by yourself." Nadir gave a little chuckle from behind them, agreeing with that statement. Erik gripped her wrist hard and pulled her close, staring into her eyes. It was almost as if he were looking for something- a weakness perhaps? Before he finally closed them and took a deep breath, releasing her wrist.

"You are excused." He said, waving a hand in the air to dismiss her. Turning on his heel and walking away, he shot Nadir a glance that hinted he should follow. Fearing his friends rage, he did as he wished and walked only a step behind.

"Cancel all work with Monsieur Wray we have agreed to. Tell him he is not credible to work with us." The mans tone was even, despite this malicious act he was asking of his friend. But Nadir had learned not to ask questions when his friend was in such a mood. In fact, adjusting to life with Erik meant learning all of these such lessons. Elise would have to learn them too- or face the wrath of Erik Destler.

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**I feel like this chapter has a lot of writing but no real bulk or content, kind of like a filler as it were. It turned out differently to than I first intended. Nonetheless, please drop me review telling me what you thought. It really helps me to improve both my writing and the readers experience of the story. Also, sorry for errors, I'm having to do this on an I pad and auto-correct tends to change words without my knowledge.**

**Thanks.**


	6. A Caged Bird

The next few days were rather uneventful. Although there was always a tension in the air as Elise shuffled uncomfortably in her seat against the harsh tightness of her dress skirts. She was bored out of her mind.

After a few hours of being stuck in that cigar smoke and testosterone swamp of a 'conference' room, they left for a break. Elise immediately found the nearest open window and had to refrain from being sick as the dress all but crushed her stomach. The clean, fresh air felt good- but she couldn't last another hour in that ghastly room.

"Monsieur Destler, may I have a word?" Elise approached the masked man from behind, tentatively, as if she were stalking a wild doe. He gave his apologies to the group of round bellied upper-middle class men with greasy moustaches and turned to his beautiful albeit pale wife. He smiled; wife.

"Erik, and yes." He answered, watching as she turned on her heel and walked around the corner out of earshot. Almost immediately her demeanor shifted from a young eloquent lady, to that of a whiny child as she gathered up her dress skirts and slumped to the floor. "Problem, Elise?" Her dainty shoulders shifted as a long, whining sigh came from her.

"I'm just bored Erik! I'm not allowed to talk or laugh or cough or think- it's like being a prisoner!" Those words hurt Erik. They were all too familiar to him and all of a sudden he couldn't help but see HER in his new wife. In a way, she was indeed his prisoner. Instead of being bound by hand, she was bound by the vows they had made at the church. It was nothing but a marriage of convenience- except it was all to convenient for him.

"We need to spend time together, is that not what Husband and Wife d-" Erik tried to push his point of view forward but she interrupted. His eyebrow twitched as she gave another, irritatingly long sigh.

"Then take me out for dinner, or on a holiday! Trapping someone in a stuffy room all day with nothing to do but smile and be brain-dead is... Is... In humane!" She waved her arms in the air almost helplessly to emphasise her point. She was rather dramatic. Had it not burned down, Erik would have recommended her to do performances for the Opera Populaire. Then again, the last time he tried to help someone with that, it hadn't gone so well.

"Them what do you suggest? I just let you into your little sanctuary again, so you can dress like a juvenile delinquent and deny my dinner proposals." As he leant against the wall he gave a slight snort of derision. "Definitely not."

"Then let me read some books." The young woman's big green eyes glistened up at him, all hopeful. There was such innocence in those eyes, like a child's. Except they were encased inside the body of a temptress. But such dark cannot exist without a light.

"Very well." He said, with a sigh of regret after a long and awkward silence. She sprang up with enthusiasm he had never seen in her since their marriage.

"Thank you!" When she got to her full height once again, she stepped up on her tip-toes. Placing a small, chaste kiss upon his cheek she ran off down the corridor. Erik stood for a while before raising a hand up to his cheek. He knew it was all in his head, but it still felt... Warm.

* * *

The next few hours seemed to fly by. Erik looked over his shoulder occasionally, when the meeting was boring, to stare at the coy little dove in the corner. Her concentration was fully on the book.

Sometimes she would look up and meet his gaze, but other times she seemed to be scanning the room; as if pulled from a dream. There was only one hassle of a meeting that day.

A sweaty, bald-headed old fellow was trying to get Erik's designs and workmen for half of the price they were due. His name was Watson, British by the sounds of it. Always the business men.

"Well, your annual income shows you are already clearly over pricing your clients for the amount services and men you provide." He said, pushing at his glasses that he only really used to make himself look intelligent. Erik observed this, since he had to actually look over the top of them to read.

"There," A pudgy finger pointed at the contract Nadir had so lovingly drawn up. "You want to employ only six men on the building of a new library in Rouen? That's preposterous!" Watson's second chin wobbled triumphantly at this observation.

"I assure you, Monsieur Watson, six men is all I need. They have never failed me before." Erik assured him, though his tone was a little lazy- having had enough of this conversation already. In fact he was more interested in his a Wife reading a book on complicated arithmetic that even he once struggled to understand. But the flabby man proceeded.

"And when do you plan to finish this? The next century?!" The man snorted in laughter at his own joke, egging the men behind him to burst out in joyous- albeit fake laughter. But the masked man narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Actually Monsieur, if you look at my previous builds you will see that each was flawlessly executed and took one year less that regular contractors. So, you can pay the full price and obtain a good quality library- unique and fast." Erik leaned forward and downed a small glass of scotch on the table. "Or, you can take it to a shoddy, lower-class contractor for you horrendously low offer."

The mans face turned redder than already possible- he looked like a ripe tomato. Nostrils flaring, he stood. "Then again, Monsieur Watson, you are in a little too deep here. Do you think I have not heard of your bankruptcy? You wouldn't even be able to pay off the debts from your lower offer."

He slammed a fat fist down, shaking the papers and scotch but dared not say a thing. It seemed even his men did not know- from the way they looked at each other with open mouths and light mutters. Erik stared the man down, his amber gaze never wavering.

Soon Watson's men left him, deciding they should already abandon ship and find work elsewhere before it were too late. He stood for a while before wagging a finger at him.

"You will regret this!" He said, sweat almost pouring from his forehead. Nadir stood and practically shoved him out the door and outside. Finally, some alone time with Elise.

But as Erik crossed the room over to her, she pulled the book back, clutching it against her chest as she stared up at him. The way she looked was almost guilty. Like a child waiting to be spanked.

"Why so nervous ma Cherie?" Erik knelt down to her height to take away some of that unnerving aura that Nadir claimed he carried about him. When he lowered she let out a deep sigh and smiled.

"Nothing, I just don't like people watching me read. I feel like they're judging me." She said, lowering the book onto her lap and putting her hands firmly atop it. Erik was about to slip it from her lap when the maids announced that food was ready. Maybe next time.

* * *

The next few days passed in a similar way, in that dank and cramped room. Erik meeting client after client, the stack of books next to her became larger and larger. He wondered how some one could read so much and so fast.

Alas, she finally seemed content. A quiet, pretty wife, sitting and waiting for him to take her down for dinner- the conversation was still flat though. Erik started to realise that he had taken away from her the only thing they had in common; music and art.

There was a twinge of guilt inside him, but so long as she never complained and smiled to herself as she read he was fine with that. Nadir insisted that it wasn't healthy. Keeping someone, especially a woman in there for such a long time was unhealthy. Erik disregarded it of course.

That night was their two-week anniversary since their marriage. Erik and Nadir sat behind their desk, going through the days sales- it had been a good day too. Elise was sat on the other side of the room. So near and yet so far away.

She was draped along the sofa, head in a book about naval architecture. It didn't seem like a conventional thing for a woman to read- but if she was happy...

Erik and Nadir continued until late; there was just too much to go through. It got so late that Nadir had to nudge Erik and point at a sleeping Elise. Now that was a rare sight, Elise sleeping. With a crack of his knuckles, Nadir stood and smiled.

"Enough business for tonight Erik, I think. I'll give you and Madame Destler some alone time." He gave Erik a sincere smile before leaving the room, closing the door ever so carefully behind himself.

Erik could feel his tired muscles protesting as he dragged himself up to stand. The walk over felt so long against his old bones. But as he got closer, he realised it was worth it. So peaceful. So content.

The book laid flat against her lap, her head laid on the arm rest of the chair. Gently, he pulled the book from her grasp. He panicked a little when she shifted. Alas, she did not wake.

However, as he retracted the book something fell out of it and onto the floor. A long black object. He bent and picked it up, rolling it between his thumb and index finger- drawing charcoal.

Immediately his attention snapped to his books. As he flicked through the pages he saw sketch after sketch after sketch. This is why she took such great pride in sitting in that stuffy room- she was drawing all along.

At first he was angry. Angry that she had not only defied him,but defaced some of his best and most expensive books. Yet, he had to admit that the sketches were rather good. He picked up the other books she had 'read' and took a flick through them too.

Nearly every picture was of the same woman. She was tall, slim, with shot curly hair and dainty features. Each was captured identically despite being in a different scene, with different clothes, at different ages or even with added fantasy features.

But there came an occasion when there would be rather comical pictures of his clients. His particular favourite was the one in his complicated arithmetic book. It was of Monsieur Watson. Except he had the head of a pig and Erik was donning a cleaver. The men behind him seemed to resemble chickens. It seemed she had a talent for wit and humour too.

Some were so precise, they looked almost three-dimensional. As if he could reach out and drag them from the page into real life. Even if it was just from a thick chunk of charcoal. And there was something about the words in the background, filling the space and otherwise empty features- many even linking to the pictures.

There was one of the girl, walking through the rain in a long, trailing dress and a parasol above her head. Although she was walking forwards, her head was turned and looking back. The picture was turned horizontally, so the words fell down like rain from the swirling clouds at the top of the page.

Elise groaned and woke rubbing her neck; stiff from the way she was laid. At first she was dazed, eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out where she was. But as her eyes flickered over Erik holding the book and charcoal they widened. She darted up into a sitting position.

"Ah, Monsieur Destler!" Erik pulled the book away as she held a hand out to grab it, "I can explain!" All the masked man gave her in reply was a chuckle as he pretended to flick through the book- having seen all the pictures already. She didn't know that though.

"I must say Elise, at first I was disappointed." He said, with a slight purr in his tone. Watching out the corner of his eye he saw her head droop down to the floor. "However, your art skills have proved to out-weigh you disregard for my orders." Once again her head shot up, like a hopeful puppy.

"There is one question I have." Erik stated, watching as Elise propped herself up on her elbow. The tired look on her face and dishevelled appearance made feeling stir that could only be cleared by imaging something distasteful. "Why not just read the books?"

"I did, Monsieur Destler." Elise scoffed as she rearranged her attire. "The drawings help." Erik gave her only a raised eyebrow as she went on to explain. "When you read, the information is retained for mere minutes- at least for me. They're summaries of every page, when I think about that topic I just close my eyes and imagine the image."

Elise closed her eyes, looking ever so delicate. Lips parted slightly, with a slight natural gleam. "That image unravels into words and knowledge. Sometimes Erik, it is not through words and books that we learn- but in the resources and the interactions with them." When her eyes opened once again, Erik was sat next to her.

At first she was alarmed. Erik had a tendency to move furtively, like a cat, silent steps and breath; like a ghost or phantom. But those amber eyes blazed with some sort of curiosity. He tilted his head as he raised a hand up to her face, caressing the soft, smooth skin of her cheek.

"A woman, a smart and beautiful woman. A free-spirited woman." He whispered tenderly.

"A feminist, actually." Though a blush crossed her cheeks, she moved his hand away. This was far too close for comfort. Though it seemed Erik wasn't quite understanding as he edged closer and chuckled.

"A feminist?" When he licked his lips, she edged further away.

"Yes, a believer in equal rights for both men and women, for neither to be the superior sex." There was a slight shakiness in her voice now as she shuffled further away from him, back pressed against the arm of the plush sofa. Again, that low giggle drew from him.

"But men are the superior sex. We have been for hundreds of years." His hand raised to caress her cheek again- but she slapped it away and shoved him to the other side of the sofa.

"Because you have forced women down, domesticated them, forced them and shamed them!" She yelled, brushing down her dress skirts and standing. Erik sighed as he rubbed his good eye.

"Elise, come on..." She looked down at him, teeth grit and eyes narrowed.

"No, Erik. Until you can see me, see women as an equal, I will not lay with you. I will not love you, I will not bear your children." As she reached the door she stopped, turned and gave him a malicious glare. "We are not a means to an end, we are not cattle, we are human just like you, the same brain, the same heart. All that is different is one organ, and that makes me so different from you?" With that, she left.

* * *

Erik slept in his office that night, in his clothes from the night before and a bottle of cognac in the loose grip of his hand. Dawn was just cracking through the window to reveal the sight left on his study wall. A gift from Elise. A painting.

There was a tall man, dark-haired and lean donning a suit. His hands were busy turning a key to a cage. It was a giant bird cage. Inside sat a woman, on her knees looking up at the man with a confident grin.

Though her eyes and face looked sad, he hand behind her back revealed a much darker motive. There was a set of hairpins in one hand, glinting in the light. In the other was a book, the title on the front was far too small to read from this far away. So Erik strolled over.

Eventually he got close enough to read it. 'Lock-picking for Beginners: A Guide to Freedom'.


End file.
